The Crow: Fallen Angel
by Erin Scott
Summary: A woman, Erin, is the Crow, but doesn't know it....how will she find out what she is and avenge her death? Read on....R & R....Rated M for sexual suggestions, massive naughty words and violence.
1. How Many Crows In A Murder?

**The Crow:**

**Fallen Angel**

Chapter One:

"How Many Crows In A Murder?"

Erin had been in the mental institution for as long as her brain allowed her to remember. She had grown up here, for all that it mattered, and she actually really didn't mind the fact that she couldn't remember anything but the institution. This was her home for the time being, and she had learned to be happy with it.

The only thing she wasn't happy about was her lost memories. They were tucked away nice and tight in the back of her mind and she just couldn't make them come forward. She wanted to so badly, but they just wouldn't.

She noticed the way the doctors stared at her, that frightened sparkle in their eyes. She knew whatever memories weren't coming forward were bad, but oddly enough ,that didn't scare her. It made her want to know more. It made her want to work harder to get the memories to come forward. She would hope and pray every night that the door in her mind would open and she would be flooded with memories.

One day she got her answer. A man came to visit her, and he was a handsome man at that. His eyes were full of hurt and sadness, proof of his depressing life. But the way the sadness seeped into his face and smile as well when she entered the room brought pain to her chest, curled up in a tight ball that made her feel uncomfortable.

But he did try to smile at her. He tried so hard to make the smile convincing, to make it so she would believe it, so hard it almost made her cry.

She slowly sat down at the table, staring at the man across from her. "Erin...." He whispered and he tilted his head to the side, looking her up and down. "You don't look as bad as I thought you would...they said you weren't making any process and I had to come here and see for myself if you really were.....gone."

"Gone? What do you mean? I'm right here." She said softly and he nodded, smiling again. That painful smile. She had to turn away for a moment.

"Of course....I just....Erin....do you remember anything?" He whispered and she shook her head.

"I can't. I try to, but it just won't come to me."

"Don't you notice things? Like you...." He sighed softly. "Don't you ever notice that crow sitting on your windowsill all the time?"

She rose an eyebrow, but nodded. "Yes...he....I talk to him sometimes. He says...odd things to me, things I don't understand."

"Really? What does he say?" He said, and reached his hand out to hold hers. She lowered her hands to her lap and her gaze joined them.

"You'll think I'm crazy....and when that happens, they up my drugs." She whispered and lifted her head up slightly.

"I swear, I won't think you're crazy....just tell me what he says."

"The crow says I need to get vengeance, that something happened to me.....my lover...something about how my lover and I were killed...."

"Yes! Did he ever mention any names?"

"Christopher.....and me......." She mumbled. "He killed us....they killed us......" She lifted her gaze to the man in front of her. "But I'm alive....aren't I?"

"Don't you ever notice how you don't get hurt.....?" He shook his head for a moment. "How no matter how much drugs they give you, you still feel the same?"

She stared at him with wide eyes. "What? How did you---how do you know about that?" She whispered, somewhat harshly and he looked around, then slowly slid a letter over to her. "Take it, read it....it'll help you."

She took the letter from him, holding it in her hand and nodding. She pushed away from the table, standing up and heading towards the door. "Good-bye..." She said to him and waited for the security guard to open the door for her.

As she walked down the hallway, she held the letter in her hands, moving it from side to side. This was going to be an interesting read.

As soon as Erin arrived back in her room, and the door was shut, she ripped open the side of the letter, sliding it out of the envelope. She slowly unfolded the letter, and read it quietly to herself.

_My dearest Christopher,_

_All day in my classes, I was thinking about you. And as I drove home, I was thinking about you. I couldn't get my mind off of you, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to. How do you make me feel the way I do? I'm so happy and excited about seeing you after class everyday, and I think about you all through the professor's lectures. I just want you to know that I love you, and I always will, not matter what happens._

_Sincerely,_

_Erin_

She tightened her hand around it, and suddenly, a wave of memories began to wash over her. She dropped the letter and backed up against the wall, closing her eyes, sliding to the floor. She put her hands over her eyes and fell to her side, balling her hands into her fists.

She was dancing with a handsome man, a smile of complete adoration on her face. She loved him, but not only that ,she needed him in her life. He meant everything to her. Christopher. He had taught her how to ballroom dance, and they were dancing. A wedding. Their wedding .Oh she was so happy, so full, and nothing could end that, not even death.

And she was giggling, running down the halls of a house, Christopher chasing after her with a water gun. She hid in the bath tub and he came racing in, spraying her with the water gun. She let out a laughing shriek and batted at the water, falling farther into the tub. He climbed in with her, straddling her and kissing her. He then leaned back and began to spray her in the face. She laughed and gurgled on the water.

Water, all around her. Drowning. No air, not enough. But she couldn't get back up. Something was holding her down, and she was dying. But hands. Hands came to grab her, pull her out of the water. It was Christopher, and he held her close as she coughed up water on the sand.

She ran along the beach, sand getting in-between her toes. Christopher followed her, and grabbed her, pulling her close, picking her up. He ran into the water and threw her into the waves. She came out of the water giggling, running a hand through her hair.

Her hands were balled up in his hair as they laid on the bed, making love .His hands roamed about her warm body, sliding along her stomach, making her shiver. He leaned forward to kiss her, and she met his lips, letting out a small sound against them as he continued to push into her.

They were both running, together. But this time, they weren't having fun, or playing a chasing game. They were running for their lives. Christopher's eyes were wide with fright and he shoved her, causing her to go farther forward. "Run, Erin, run!" And there were voices, voices all around them. "You can't run forever, we'll catch you, traitors!" And they ran faster, faster still because they were afraid of that voice, and they knew who it was. But she couldn't remember, why there were afraid. Why they were running. And it came to her.

A tall man stood in front of her, as she sat on the edge of the bed, Christopher next to her, a frown on his face. "You and your man, you fucked up everything. All we needed was for you two to keep quiet, but you didn't, did you? YOU GAVE IT ALL AWAY!" He raised his hand and slapped her hard enough to send her sprawling off the bed and against the wall. "You should have kept your mouths shut, but you didn't. So we're going to fucking waste you both." She looked up from the floor, groggy, but that memory faded to another.

Christopher and her were in a bathroom stall, and she was giggling. He lifted her up and put her against the wall, and smiled lustfully at her, but stopped and lowered her to the ground when he heard someone else coming into the bathroom. He looked to her for a moment, and when they heard a loud scream, his eyes went wide and he turned, looking through the crack in the bathroom stall. She looked as well, seeing a man, threatening and screaming at a sobbing woman on the ground. And just as fast as he came in, he grabbed a gun and shot her in the head, her body slumping to the ground. By reaction, Erin let out a gasp and stumbled backwards, almost falling into the toilet. The man turned around and yanked so hard on the door, it broke the lock. He stared at them. "Listen, you little shits, tell anyone and you're dead! DEAD! Fucking wasted!" He turned and left the bathroom.

Christopher was on the phone, telling the police everything, about the killing, and the man.

The man sat at the table, surrounded by five other men. One by the name of Lefty, and was, oddly enough, sitting to the right of the man. Dasher sat next to him, his arms crossed over his massive chest. Mooney sat on the left of the killer, looking bored, like he wanted to do something he couldn't quite do yet. Roach sat next to him, looking like his name, dirty, and devious. And finally, sat Albino, matching his name, his skin pale as death, his eyes such an odd color, in the light, it could have been pink. And the man, the killer, who sat at the head of the table, as fitting as it was, his name was Killer. They looked like they all had a plan.

She lay in bed with Christopher, his arms around her. She slept peacefully, and he did as well. But the sound of a gun being fired awakened both of them and she looked around, as well as he. He slowly got out of bed and pulled on a pair of boxers, and she got on a robe, following him down the hallway. "I wonder what that was." He said softly and she gasped, pointing towards the group of men standing in the living room. Killer, Lefty, Dasher, Mooney, Roach and Albino. She stumbled backwards and begin to run, and Chris followed.

She was lying on the ground, but she couldn't feel anything. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe. And then it hit her. She was dead. Dead. They had stabbed her, raped her, and Christopher was dead too, after being cut and raped as well by some of the men. They were both dead.

Erin let out a scream as she opened her eyes. She was dead. She sobbed loudly and scrambled forward, breathing hard. Dead, she was dead. She stood on shaky legs, grabbing a scalpel from her pocket, one she always kept. She grabbed it and slid it across her arms, shaking. She saw the cut form, but just as fast as it had came, it closed up, the blood going back into her body. She screamed again and fell backwards. "I'm dead......" She whispered.


	2. What Am I Going To Do?

**The Crow:**

**Fallen Angel**

**Chapter Two**

**"What Am I Going To Do?"**

Erin sat on the floor, trembling as she clutched the scalpel in one hand and the letter in the other. "I...I...oh God…dead…I can't be, I couldn't be, how would they not know?"

"Because they were curious about you. They wanted to know what was wrong with you." A voice loomed over the room and she lifted her head, frowning. "What? Who?"

"The guards. The hospital attendants. They wanted to know how you were still living even though your heart was no longer beating."

She slid her hand over her chest. "But I…breathe, I breathe! Listen to me, I'm doing it now."

"You only do it out of familiarity, not out of necessity."

"Who are you? What are you doing here? Where are you?"

"The windowsill." Her eyes moved to the window and she frowned, seeing only a crow. She stood up slowly, moving to the window, biting at her lip. "You? Are you talking to me?" She whispered softly. "Oh God, I'm even crazier than I thought."

"You are dead. Put your hand on your heart, feel it, listen for your heart beat." She did as it asked, frowning as she felt nothing underneath her cold palm.

"I am dead, I am, aren't I? But…what I saw…is that true? Was I killed? Was Chris killed?"

"Yes. You were murdered in the worst way possible. And I was supposed to guide you to get your revenge. But sadly, I didn't get to you in time. They found you on the side of the road before I could."

"How long have I been dead?"

"Until they found you?"

"Yes." She looked at the crow, eyes no longer confused but sad.

"They buried your body in an abandoned field. Don't you remember clawing your way out of the Earth?"

She began to shake her head but gasped when she remembered being trapped. It was dark and heavy, and she didn't know how to get out. She had begun to scream, but only ended up with dirt, heavy and thick, in her mouth. She wasn't buried very deep, but it seemed like forever until she had clawed her way back up to the surface. She was gasping, crying, trembling, and looking up at the moonlit sky. She opened her eyes and looked at the Crow. "I remember seeing you after I got out of the ground. But I didn't think you…you were important."

"I am. And I can get you out of here."

"Where would I go? Why would I leave?"

"To get revenge on those who took your life, along with Christopher's."

"I want to hurt them. For ruining it, for ruining everything we had."

"Do you remember what you found out before you died?"

"No."

"Try." She closed her eyes and concentrated. She was outside the doctor's office, hands in her lap as she sat in her car. She picked up her phone, sighing, nervous. Christopher picked up. "Yes?"

"Christopher."

"Erin? What is it? Are you okay?"

"Yes…I went to the doctor's today."

"Why did you go to the doctor's? Are you sick?" His voice was concerned, worried.

"I'm pregnant."

There was silence on the other end of the phone and then laughter, happy laughter. "Pregnant!"

She laughed as well, the nervousness melting away. "Yes, I'm pregnant."

"Oh wow! A baby!"

Erin closed her eyes tightly, trying to force the memory away. "Yes, I remember. I was…I was pregnant…how far?"

"About two months when you died. You weren't showing yet." The crow answered. It's voice sounded a little sad, a little remorseful.

"Oh." She sat down on the bed. "What about my family?"

"Your parents died in a car accident when you were young. Your brother is the young man who came to visit you today. He suspects something is wrong with you, but he doesn't know what."

"What is his name?"

"Martin."

"Martin." She bit at her lip. "Can I visit him, when I get out?"

"I suggest you don't."

She stood up slowly and looked at the crow. "Get me out. Now. I want to hurt them."

"Excellent." The crow flew away from the windowsill, and she turned when the door opened.

"Erin, it's time to go." A nurse stood at the door and she stood up.

"Where?"

"Just come on." He said quickly, grabbing her arm and pulling her down the hallway. He seemed so monotone, so lifeless as he dragged her along. He pushed her out the back door of the center, an employee's only exit. The door shut behind her and she heard a thud. She was now outside and a small smile curved on her lips.

"Wow." She murmured softly and stepped out onto the street. "What am I going to do?"


	3. All Dressed Up With Everywhere To Go

**The Crow:**

**Fallen Angel**

**Chapter Three**

**All Dressed Up With Everywhere ****to**** Go**

The crow soared over her head and she looked up at it. "What is your name?"

"I don't have one."

"Why not?"

"I've never been given one. Would you like to give me one?"

"I don't know. I always wanted to name my baby Vincent and I suppose since I never had him…may I name you Vincent?"

"I like it. Sounds dark."

"Yes, like Vincent Price." She said, moving down the street. "Where are we going first?"

"First, we need to get you dressed and armed, ready to go and get your revenge."

"Okay. Where are we going first?"

"A special store. No worries, you'll look wonderful." He said and she could almost hear the smile in his voice.

"Alright." She said softly, moving forward with him down the street. He flew over the entrance to a small store and she looked up at him. "In here?" She asked and he let out a sound that she assumed meant yes.

"You'll know which outfit to pick. You'll know." He said and she slid into the store. Her eyes widened when she saw a vast array of leather and vinyl outfits. It looked like an S & M sex shop. She moved down the aisles, hand brushing against a vinyl body suit. She tugged it down and looked it, checking the size. The one that was left in black was exactly her size, perfect. On the floor below, as if someone had thrown them there, sat a par of vinyl boots that matched the outfit perfectly. She grabbed both of the items and moved to the front desk to pay. There was no one there, in fact, the entire store was empty. She grabbed a bag from behind the cash register, stuffed the things in there and slid out of the store.

"What next?" She asked, looking up at Vincent.

"We need some weapons." He said and she nodded. "Alright. Lead the way."

Vincent took her to a small gun store and she quickly loaded up on weapons, the store empty again.

"Now come along, we've got to get you ready." He led the way to an abandoned house, the front doors nailed up. She slid inside and looked around, frowning. "This…looks familiar."

"Yes. You used to live her." He said softly and she frowned. "I don't…I don't…want to touch anything."

"That might be hard to do, Erin."

"Just tell me what I have to do, please."

"We need to give you a mask, a disguise. Do you remember where your makeup is?"

"Yes. Under the sink." She said softly, moving to the bathroom and grabbing it.

"Get dressed. We'll talk when you're done. I'll tell you your disguise."

Erin quickly pulled on her outfit, zipping up the front and strapping on her gun belt. Vincent let out a sound. "You look scary. Very scary. Sort of dominatrix."

She smirked slightly. "I agree." She said softly. "Now how do I do my makeup?"

He had her sit down in front of her vanity, before sitting down on top of the mirror. "White on your face, black on the eyes, you're dead, let's not fool people by trying to look alive. Black on the lips as well. " He said quickly and she looked up at him.

"This is odd, talking to a crow."

"It is, isn't it? Would you like me to take a more pleasing shape?" He asked and she swallowed hard.

"Yes."

"One moment, please." He said and flew off of the vanity. "Keep turned around, please, this may not be very pleasant to look at."

She nodded her head and closed her eyes, sighing gently. She heard grunting and then a small sigh. "Alright, finished."

She opened her eyes, looking in the mirror. She gasped out softly, almost falling backwards off the seat. She turned around quickly, hands gripping the edge of the vanity. "You…you look like…"

"Like Christopher. " He said and held his hands out. His face, his body, and his clothing were all Christopher's, but his voice was still the voice she had heard from the crow earlier.

"Why did you…why do you look like him?"

"He is the only male human I have to go off of. I'm sorry if it upsets you. Should I change back?" He asked and she shook her head.

"No." She whispered softly, lowering to sit back down on the seat. "No."

"Excellent. Ready to put on your mask?"

She simply shook her head, eyes still on him.

"What is wrong, Erin?"

"I…I….I want to kiss you." She spat out and he tilted his head to the side.

"If I allow you one kiss, will you get ready then?" He asked impatiently and she nodded her head.

He moved to her, holding out his hand. She slid her hand against his, standing up, looking up into his eyes. She let out a tiny sigh and he looked down at her. "Are you going to kiss me or shall I kiss you?"

Her eyes widened and she swallowed hard. "He...Christopher used to say that to me, all the time." She murmured and he smiled.

"I know."

She went up on tiptoes, pressing her lips gently against his. His hands went to run through her hair and she let out a small sigh, losing herself in the kiss. She let herself believe it was really Christopher, that he wasn't dead, that they were still together. His lips were so soft and warm, and his hands were such a nice, firm grip on her head as the kiss deepened. She let out a small sound and he pulled away, breathing a bit faster.

"I haven't been alive in so long I forgot…forgot how good that felt." He said quickly and she looked up at him, blinking slowly.

"You were alive once?"

"Yes, but that's not important at the moment, come along, let's get your mask on." He said and she shook her head.

"Tell me. When were you alive?"

"During the plague. I died of it. For some reason, the fates decided I was the perfect representation for death. Funny, I would much rather be rotting in the ground than leading poor, unfortunate souls to revenge." His voice was bitter, cold, and she sighed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"You did. But it's alright." He said, sighing. "Now come on, we'll put on your mask. Let's go."

She sat back down on the chair, doing the makeup just as he asked. White on her face, black on her lips, on her eyes…long lines from her eyes, almost like tears. She drew lines out from her lips, a demented smile. She stood up slowly, swallowing slowly. "Wow." She said as she looked in the mirror.

"Wow is right." He said softly. "You look like beautiful death. Beautiful, merciless death."

"Yes. I'm all dressed up, with everywhere to go." She said and he smiled.

"Spoken like a true angel of death. Come along." He said and they moved out of the house.


	4. Staring to Love This

**The Crow**

**Fallen Angel**

**Chapter Four**

**Starting to Love This**

She sat on her front porch, Vincent sitting next to her, smoking a cigarette. He had taken a trench coat that had belonged to Christopher from the closet and slipped it on. She never realized how dashing he looked in the jacket and it broke her heart that it really wasn't him. She sighed and looked up at the moon. It was full, bright. Perfect for the task at hand.

"Are you ready to go, Erin?" He asked, standing up and flicking the cigarette butt into the yard. He looked at her and she sighed, nodding her head. "You know, Erin, I've been thinking. Most of the time, I call my duties the Angel of Death, but I think I have a new name from you."

"Yes?" She asked, standing up as well, following him to the sidewalk as he moved along.

"Yes. I've decided I'm going to name you a Fallen Angel instead. You've been here too long; you've been affected too much by the world to be an Angel of Death. You're a Fallen Angel. Besides, it sounds much prettier."

"Yes, it does." She said softly and he looked at her.

"Is something wrong, Erin?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"You look like Christopher, walk like Christopher, kiss like Christopher, but you're not him, you don't sound like him. Hearing someone else's voice coming out of Christopher is…odd."

"I offered to change back. Would you like me to change back? I will."

"No. Stay like this. Please. You're all of Christopher I have left." She said and reached her hand out to grab his hand, squeezing it.

He sighed, squeezing back. "Once you finish this, you'll be able to be with him again, you know. You won't be trapped in this dimension any longer. He's been waiting for you, all these years."

"He has? Where? Is he in Heaven?"

"A place that is much like Heaven, yes. Only the purest of souls may go there, the ones filled with true love, compassion and loyalty. God is not what you think. Or who you think."

"Oh? Who is He then? What is he?"

"That I cannot disclose. The sheer knowledge of the true form of God in a human mind is deadly. That is why you have to be dead before you can see God or even truly comprehend him. If He had simply come to Earth himself instead of sending his son, the Bible would be a whole different book." He looked at her and she simply nodded.

"Now come along, Erin, we're going to your killing tonight."

He led her to a bar, large, loud and rowdy. It was called Le Chat Noir, French for The Black Cat, she knew that. She sighed and looked at Vincent. "Who is in there that I need to kill?" She asked and he smirked, sliding a cigarette between his lips and lighting it.

"Everyone."

"Everyone? But I don't remember there being that many people…killing me."

"No. But they were all intentionally involved in your death. There was a vote, in their little guild, their little society, about whether or not they were going to kill you and Christopher. They had full knowledge that you were pregnant, as well as completely innocent of any other crime. But everyone in that bar still chose to rape, torture and kill you and your husband."

She tensed up at the words and frowned, sliding one of the guns out from the holster that rested on her hip. She pulled back the safety, eyes narrowing. "Would you like to watch?" She asked and he laughed.

"I thought you'd never ask, darlin'." He said, taking a drag. "But wait. Don't kill the girl behind the bar. She is an innocent. If you kill an innocent, your mission is over and you're either going back to the mental institution or perpetual purgatory."

She nodded. "Don't worry about it." She said and moved into the bar slowly, hand on her gun. She moved to the bar, seeing a young girl, with gorgeous blue eyes. "Hey, over here." She said, lifting her hand as if she wanted a drink. The bartender sauntered over, stopping when she saw her odd makeup.

"Uh...um…what can I get you?" She asked quickly, swallowing hard.

"Go out back, love, I don't want you to see this."

"See what?"

"Go out back." She said, eyes narrowing and the girl nodded her head, moving from behind the bar and out the back door quickly.

Erin lifted herself up on the bar, standing, and a few men whistled when they saw her outfit. She shot her gun up in the air, letting out a yell. "Hey!"

The bar quieted down and all eyes turned to her. "Good evening, gentlemen, ladies, if there are any. My name is not important, but a few are. Is anyone by the name Lefty, Mooney, Albino, Dasher, Roach or Killer here?"

Silence fell over the room, like nothing she had ever heard before. "Don't make me repeat myself, God damn it! Tell me if any of these men are here and maybe I'll see about killing you all nice and quick." Her eyes scanned the room for Vincent, but she couldn't find him.

A voice piped up. "I know where Roach is." There were whispers, angry sounds.

"Where?"

"He hangs out a hotel, the Rochester on 7th Street." The man said, stepping forward slightly so she could see him. He was disgusting, dirty, and probably high.

"Thank you." She said, lifting her gun, aiming it at his head. She pulled the trigger, the bullet hitting him between the eyes. He fell to the ground and she smirked. "No honor among thieves." She heard guns being pulled and she stood up straight. "Cowards die many times before their deaths. The valiant taste of death but once."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means, my dearest coward, say hello to the Fallen Angel of Death." She began to shot into the crowd, her shot amazingly on, hitting and killing all the men she aimed at. The men pulled out their guns, beginning to shoot at her. She dropped down behind the bar and Vincent smirked at her from his spot there.

"I barred the doors, front and back. The bartender is safe. You can do whatever you want."

"And the windows?"

"There are no windows. The evil like their darkness."

"Excellent." She reloaded her gun and grabbed a large bottle of vodka. She threw it onto the ground, watching it shatter.

She did quite a job at dispatching the men, some of them turning on each other as she jumped off the bar. One man lay injured on the ground, bleeding out. She looked down at him and he held his hands up, crying. She tilted her head to the side and watched him.

"Please, please don't kill me! Let me live, I will do anything you want, anything!"

"Save a thief from the gallows and he will cut your throat." She murmured before pulling the trigger on her gun, killing him instantly.

She let out a loud gasp when a bullet punctured her stomach, but the wound quickly healed. She turned to look at the man, growling as she lunged at him.

The fight loomed on and she was winning. There were only about a fourth of the original men left, Vincent taking a few men out from behind the bar. She hopped back over the bar to join him, grabbing his cigarette and taking a drag. She licked her lips quickly before tossing the lit butt into the puddle of vodka, watching it go up into flames. She quickly exited with Vincent, baring the door up again.

She leaned against a wall in an alley next to the bar and he looked at her. "How was that?"

"Fun. Kill a man, and you are a murderer. Kill millions of men, and you are a conqueror. Kill everyone, and you are a god." She said with a smile. "I'm really starting to love this."

"Good. Because we finally know here one of the men who killed you is. Let's go get him."

"Let's."


	5. Ah, the Rochester

**The Crow:**

**Fallen Angel**

**Chapter Five**

**Ah, the Rochester**

**Just a warning here, guys, one of the flashback in this scene is pretty graphic. If you don't like rape scenes, don't read this chapter. Ju****st go the next chapter or just skip over that part. This chapter is kind of important. **

Vincent and Erin stood in front of the Rochester, the wind blowing through the trees. She sighed softly, feeling it against her face. "What floor is he on?" She asked softly and Vincent looked at her.

"The sixteenth. Room 1616. I thought it would be funnier if he was in room 666, but most hotels don't have that room, all things considered." He said, eyes on her face. He felt something funny, something different in his stomach. He sighed softly. "Come on, let's go." He said, leading her to the back of the building. They moved into the elevator and he looked at her.

"What is it, Vincent?" She asked softly and he took a step closer to her, grabbing her arms and pressing her against the wall of the elevator.

She gasped, eyes widening. "Vincent…I…what are you doing?"

"I don't…don't know…" He said quickly, but his lips were so close to hers, and she was so soft, so sweet. "Just…it feels right." He murmured, pressing his lips against hers. She gasped softly against his lips as he kept her pinned against the wall. She melted ever so slightly again, lips working against his. His body pressed against hers and she let out a small sound, pulling her lips away, breathing quickly.

"Oh…Christopher…" She murmured and he tensed up slightly, but it quickly left his body.

"Is that what you want? A night with Christopher, one night?" He asked and she nodded her head, keeping her eyes closed.

"Yes." She whispered and he kept his hands in her hair.

"You…I don't know why, but you seem so different than all my other charges. You make my body…tight, tingle, electric. I haven't felt like this since I died so many years ago." He said quickly.

She looked up at him, swallowing hard. She sighed and reached up, wiping the black off his lips with her fingers. "Tonight. After I kill Roach. Maybe we'll get a room." She said softly and he kissed her forehead, sighing.

"Okay." He murmured as the elevator doors opened. She slid out, down the hall, finding room 1616.

"He's with another man, that's why they're here. No one else knows that he's gay. Do not kill his male companion, he is innocent and clean of Roach's life. He knows nothing of it." Vincent said quickly and she nodded, knocking on the door.

A young man answered, who Erin assumed was Roach's lover. "Good evening." She said quickly and his eyes widened when he saw her, what she was wearing and her makeup.

"Who are you?" He asked and she tilted her to the side.

"That is not of any importance to you, dear. I suggest you either head in the bathroom, or hide in the hallway." She said, motioning behind her.

"Why?"

"Please, do as I ask." She said and he took a step back as she pulled one of her guns off her hip holster, clicking the safety off.

"I…I…I…please don't kill me." He whispered quickly and she shook her head.

"Not you."

"Not me?"

"Not you, not here for you, darling. Now go head in the bathroom." She pointed at the door with the gun and he nodded his head quickly, stumbling into the bathroom. She made sure he locked the door before moving towards the main room. It was a nice hotel room, probably a suite and there was a door in front of the bedroom. She smirked, kicking it down with her booted foot.

Roach was on the bed, a joint between his lips, but he quickly hopped up, grabbing his gun off the bedside table. She was on the bed, gun pressed to his temple before he could aim at her. "Hello, Roach."

"What the fuck are you doing here? Who are you?"

"My name is not important. Yours is though. Roach, am I correct?"

"No, I'm not Roach." He said quickly and she frowned.

"I don't like liars." She pressed the gun tighter against his temple. "I will ask you again. Are you Roach?" She asked.

"Fine, yes, I'm Roach. What the fuck does it matter to you, I didn't do nothing." He said quickly and she frowned. He reached up, trying to grab her gun from her and when he touched her skin, she gasped, memories flashing through her mind.

Roach was over her, body moving against hers. She only felt pain between her legs, the warm sensation of blood. He was hurting her, he was raping her. He grabbed her chin, turning her to look at Christopher on the ground. He watched her with wide eyes and let out a gasping cry as Dasher pushed inside of him. He violated him in ways he never should have been able to do. Christopher tried not to cry but he couldn't help it. Roach laughed loudly and made her watch as he violated her. "Doesn't he look pretty with a dick in his ass?" He asked, tracing fingertips against her cheek. "Probably would look better with it in his mouth." "No!" She screamed and he slapped her hard, grabbing her chin. "Tell me he looks good." "I won't, I won't!" She said quickly and he slapped her again, this time blood dripping down her chin. "Tell me!" She sobbed loudly, grabbing at the ground, trying to get free. "No, no, no!" She trembled and he watched her, pulling out a switchblade. He pressed it against her breast, and she let out a whimper. "Tell me." "He looks good…he looks good." "He looks good what? Why does he look good?" "He looks good with…a dick in his ass…" She whispered loudly, a sob escaping her lips afterwards and he smiled down at her. "Lovely, dear, just lovely."

She gasped out loudly and when she opened her eyes, she found Roach with a gun pressed to her head. "Now, tell me what you're doing here, you little painted whore." He growled and she looked up at him.

"Don't you remember?" She asked slowly and he shook his head.

"No."

"My husband…he looked good with a dick in his ass." She growled, and his eyes widening. He pulled back slightly and she took that moment to knock him back, taking the gun from him. She pressed it against his forehead, breathing quickly.

"You…you, no, you're dead. We killed you, I remember."

"Do you remember how died? Because I don't."

"You bled to death."

"And my husband?"

"He…we shot him." He said quickly and she growled. He still looked terrified, unsure if this was real or not.

"Did you know I was pregnant?"

"Yes."

She pistol whipped him across the face, growling loudly. "Then why the fuck did you rape me, kill me, my husband? Why?"

"Because we would have gone to jail if you weren't dead."

"No, no. Killer would have gone to prison. You killed us because you like it. You like it, you liked killing people, raping the, hurting them, didn't you?" He didn't answer, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Tell me! Didn't you!?" She growled and he nodded his head quickly.

"I still like it." He whispered and she trembled. She kept the gun against his forehead and she reached around, pulling out a knife out of her belt. She held it against his neck, breathing quickly.

"Please, I'll change, I promise, I won't hurt anyone anymore." He said quickly and she let out a sound, and he stopped talking.

"Shut up. You're a liar! I told you I didn't like liars, damn it!" She growled and he let out a sound. "All you are is a lackey. You're a bitch for someone much bigger than you. Tell me where the rest of them are and I won't make you suffer. I'll make it quick. But if you don't, I'll make you bleed out nice and slow, make it hurt. Need I remind you I went to medical school?" She asked.

"I don't…I don't know where they are." He said and she sighed, dragging the knife along his jugular. He let out a gasp and she leaned back, watching him.

"Cruel with guilt and daring with despair, the midnight murderer bursts the faithless bar; invades the sacred hour of silent rest and leaves, unseen, a dagger in your breast." She tilted her head to the side, watching him.

"Please…"He gasped out and she held the knife in her hand.

"Leaves, unseen, a dagger in your breast." She repeated and plunged the knife into his chest, into his heart, breathing slowly. She slid off the bed, taking the knife out. She wiped it on the bed sheets and moved to the bathroom, knocking on the door. "You can come out now." She said and the young man opened the door, trembling.

"Is he…dead? Did you kill him?" He asked and she nodded.

"Yes. But I did not come here to hurt you. Go, go home." She said softly.

"I don't have a home. I live here. Roach pays for it, for my dinner, my food."

"Does he? Where does he get that money?"

"I don't know, I…he just pays for it." He said quickly and she sighed, moving to the bed. She went to the bedside table, picking up his wallet. She walked back to the young man, pulling a couple hundred dollars out of the wallet. She handed it to him. "Here's this." She said, grabbing Roach's checkbook. "Forge a few checks. You'll be fine."

He looked at her, frowning. "Why did you kill him? Is this how you get your sick kicks, bitch? Hurting innocent people?"

"Innocent!?" She growled, turning on him, putting the knife against his throat. "He is anything but innocent. He raped me, made me bleed, killed my husband and ruined my life. You tell me he's innocent one more time and I swear I'll make it so you never forget tonight!"

He looked at her with wide eyes, holding his hands up. "I'm sorry." He said quickly and trembled when she took the knife away. "Go find yourself another hotel." She said quickly, moving out of the room, slamming the door.

Vincent stood outside, watching her, smoking a cigarette. "You shouldn't have threatened the boy." He said.

She sighed. "Did I do bad?"

"No. But watch your temper next time." He said and moved down the hallway with her to the elevator again.

"What about that room?" He asked her and she looked at him.

"You buy." She said and he smirked.

"Lovely."


End file.
